So weave some of your heart spells for me, dearest dear
Betty [Peter wrote], I am sending you the manuscript of
Act I and part of Act II, and I know you will read them carefully
and let me know fully what you think of them. Criticize
them from your splendid human viewpoint. The dear old
governor has been rather hard on me of late, and I may have
to go into the office yet. Death! Help, rescue me, dear,
for to put a play across will be my salvation from his prejudices.
I must do it this summer, and then--then by the new year
perhaps I can lay the gems of success at your feet. May I
come down and talk to you soon about it all? No one knows
what's in my heart but you, my own Betty. May I come?

PETER.

I was extremely happy and excited over the poetical way in which Peter
was calling on my common sense to help him in his crisis, but I felt
weighted down with the responsibility. Yes, I understood the great
Farrington. He felt as I did--that Peter's genius needed to see and help
old Dr. Chubb drench Buttercup with a can of condition-mixture. Now,
could I supply all that, or enough of it to keep Peter from being
murdered in his father's office? The inky bundle at my side began to
look as if it weighed a ton, but my loyalty and affection for Peter made
me know that I must put my back to the burden and raise it somehow. If
it had been a simple burden, like three sick cows, it would have been
easier to take upon my shoulders. Then suddenly, as I was about to be in
a panic about it all, the thought of the cows reminded me of Sam, and
immediately, in my mind, I shared the weight of the manuscript with him
and began to breathe easier. The way Sam and Peter love each other
inspires positive awe in my heart, though Mabel says it is provoking